


Let's Never Speak of This Again

by sturms_sun_shattered



Series: Hostile Takeover Universe [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 04:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2718932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sturms_sun_shattered/pseuds/sturms_sun_shattered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nori convinces Bofur to help him with a slightly illegal job.  Bofur wonders what he's gotten himself into.  Takes place in 2002, a decade prior to Hostile Takeover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Innocent Drink

**Author's Note:**

> In the last chapter of Hostile Takeover I regretted not exploring Nori and Bofur’s friendship further. This is a short piece about an incident that was mentioned briefly in Chapter 9.

**20 September 2002**

 

“You understand that this is an economy thing, yeah?  It’s nothing to do with my website,” Nori defended himself stoically.

Dwalin swiped a stack of folders off the desk and onto the floor with his meaty hand.  Thorin sighed and ignored Dwalin’s pacing and grumbling as best he could.  He folded one hand over the other, and stared across his desk at Nori and Bofur.

“You couldn’t have foreseen this?” Thorin asked.

“Who could foresee this?” Bofur said

“Our business is suffering.”

“Everyone’s business is suffering, internet companies are in the shitter.  You’re lucky that you’re not really a ‘dotcom’!” said Bofur, a note of tired exasperation creeping into his voice.

Dwalin turned at glared at them, though mostly at Nori.  He looked as though he wanted to say something, his scarred eyebrow twitching as he narrowed his eyes.  He pointed his finger at Nori as though he was about to verbally tear him apart, but was unable to find the words.

“You don’t understand what I do, but the website’s fine,” said Nori, staring straight at Dwalin.

“You obnoxious fuck!” Dwalin spouted.

Thorin stood and threw his arm across Dwalin’s chest to prevent him leaping over the desktop at Nori.

“Every bloody time,” sighed Bofur, glaring at Nori for provoking Dwalin.

“Why do we keep this jackass?” Dwalin growled, backing down.

“Because I crashed Smaug Inc.’s server. You’re welcome,” said Nori arrogantly.

“Enough,” said Thorin.

“Lads, we have other options,” offered Bofur.

“I don’t want to listen to anymore of your options!  You know how much we’ve sunk into this venture with your fucking advertising!?” Dwalin raged.

“You need advertising so people know you have a product…” Nori droned.

“ENOUGH!” Thorin finally shouted.

The other three froze. They had not heard the sound of the bell on the front door tinkling.  Thorin’s nephews stood at the office door, their hair sopping from the rainy walk from their school.  Kíli looked somewhat wetter than Fíli, his jacket dripping puddles over the floor.

“What happened to you, Kíli?” Thorin asked the shivering nine-year-old.

“I…fell into the pond…”

“Hm,” grumbled Thorin, leading the two out of the office.

“He tried to catch a duck!” Bofur heard Fíli tattle, and he had to suppress a smile.

Dwalin leaned backed against the front of the desk.  This was uncomfortably close for Bofur, but he did not dare move back.  Staring down Dwalin was like staring down a bear, he thought, one wrong move and he would lash out.

“What were your other ideas, Bofur?” he asked begrudgingly.

“We have to get into more wares shows.  My kid brother works for a jeweller across town and he helps them with that kind of thing all the time.  Get orders, have them pay a deposit and you’re golden,” said Bofur.

Dwalin nodded, considering this.

“Where do we find these things?” he asked.

“I don’t really know, but maybe Bombur would be willing to…you know, do something part-time here?” said Bofur, with what he hoped was a winning smile.

“I’ll consider it,” said Dwalin.

Bofur nodded.

“You can go if you’re done for the day,” Dwalin grumbled.

Nori and Bofur did not miss their cue, and both hastily took off.  They waved at Kíli, who was dressed in over-large grey coveralls; his clothing hung in the forge to dry.  Nori and Bofur stood under the awning on the doorstep for a moment before considering their next move in the rain.  Bofur sighed, lamenting forgetting umbrella and wondered how long the bus would take.

“Wait.  You want to get a pint?” said Nori, grabbing Bofur’s arm before he stepped into the rain.

“I’m a little short,” said Bofur with a shrug.

“Let me get you a pint,” he said, leading Bofur over to his 1994 Ford Taurus.

Bofur reluctantly sat down in Nori’s car.  In the few years he had known him, Nori had never offered him anything without an agenda, though Bofur knew better than to press him on the subject.  They drove down the street to Beorn’s Pub, the seediest building on the block.  Of course Nori would take him here…maybe he wanted a kidney to sell on the black market…

They settled down and Beorn brought over their beers with a scowl.  Bofur ran his finger over the perpetually oily table with a bit of a shiver, and wiped his hands on his pants.  Nori watched the match on the tube television above the bar vacantly. Eventually he turned to Bofur.

“You’re short on work?”

“A little.  The only contract I still have going on is the one with Thorin,” he said.

Nori nodded.

“My specialization in internet advertising is rubbish and I’m still paying down my student debts,” Bofur said, staring at the moisture rings his glass left on the table.

“What if I told you I knew someone in marketing over at Mirkwood,” said Nori, his face never breaking the neutral mask.

Bofur raised his eyebrows.

“I just need a little help moving something this weekend,” said Nori.

“Moving, great!  I have been told I lift a sofa like a pro,” said Bofur optimistically.

Nori’s laugh—which was really a tiny exhale through his long nose—dashed Bofur’s hopes almost immediately. He leaned back and the booth and groaned.  Nori’s eyes gleamed with amusement at his younger friend’s naivety.

“It’s not furniture…” Bofur groaned.

Nori shook his head, looking more delighted with his hint of a smile than Bofur had ever seen him.

“You’ll get a cut,” said Nori.

“Nori…always with the…with the stuff with you…” Bofur complained.

“Look, if you don’t want a cut, I get it…”

Bofur sighed.  He really did not want to ask his mother to help him out on rent again.  He was nearly thirty but she might try to encourage him to move back home…Bofur leaned his head back against the top of the booth and grimaced.

“What do I have to do?” he groaned, not looking at Nori.

 


	2. A Little Transaction

**Just a Little Transaction**

**21 September 2002**

Bofur awoke with a groan and tried to roll over.  He opened his eyes and found himself on a sofa he did not recognise.  He sat upright with a jolt, trying to remember how he had ended up in this place.

“What took you so long?”

Bofur started, but noted with relief that it was only Nori.  He had stepped in from the balcony with a perfectly red tomato in his hand.

“What time is it?” groaned Bofur.

“Noon.”

“I think I’m still drunk…what the hell did we do last night?” asked Bofur, pushing the blue afghan off of his legs.

“Maybe better if you don’t know,” said Nori humourlessly, slicing the tomato.

“You garden on your balcony?” Bofur said with a half-smile.

“One tomato plant.”

Bofur shook his head with a small laugh and immediately regretted it.  He sat down at one of the two seats at the tiny kitchen table.

“You’re still good with our agreement, then?” Nori asked.

“Agreement?” Bofur blanched.

Nori set down a toasted tomato sandwich in front of Bofur, and sat down across from him with his own. Nori eyed Bofur blandly and Bofur recalled the conversation they had had at Beorn’s Pub the previous night.

“You want me to help you with a drug deal…” Bofur groaned.

“You do remember.”

“Nori…”

“You’ve already agreed,” said Nori, taking a bit of his sandwich.

“You got me drunk! Everything seems like a good idea when you’re drunk…”

He glared at Nori. Nori continued to eat his sandwich, nonplussed.  A fuzzy memory was lodged in Bofur’s mind.

“Was I on the roof last night?  I was on the roof last night!”

“I did talk you down,” said Nori nonchalantly.

Bofur ran his hands down his face, his cheeks burning.  Had he really been sobbing his eyes out about his student debt and failing career prospects? Perhaps more embarrassing, he had recalled that Nori had talked him down and walked him back to his apartment with a comforting arm around him.  Looking at his cynical colleague now, he decided it must have been a fragment from a drunken dream.

“You’re still in. We’re leaving in a couple of hours,” Nori said.

 

oOo

 

In the mid-afternoon they arrived at a ramshackle farmhouse outside of the village of Bree.  Nori passed a handgun to Bofur who held it delicately, as though it might bite him.

“I thought you said you knew these guys!” Bofur said, his eyes wide.

“I do.  That’s why I’m giving you this,” he said.

“Fuck, Nori!  I’ve never handled one of these!” said Bofur.

Nori reached over expressionlessly and briefly pointed out the main features for Bofur.

“Safety on.  Safety off.  Point and shoot.  Don’t use it unless you have to, mostly just makes a lot of noise.”

“And kills people!”

“Better them than you,” Nori shrugged.

Bofur made sure the safety was on and hid it down the front of his jeans, his heart thrumming in his chest. Nori opened the trunk and pulled two duffels from under the panel that normally covered the spare tire. He handed one to Bofur who staggered at it’s weight and looked at him questioningly.

“Don’t ask and you’ll never have to know,” said Nori.

“Are you running weapons?” whispered Bofur, his eyes like saucers.

“I said don’t ask.”

“Not okay with this. So _not_ okay with this,” Bofur whispered under his breath as they approached the door.

“Keep your mouth shut while we’re in there,” said Nori.

“My breathing is loud. Do you think my breathing is loud?” Bofur rambled.

“Won’t be for long if you don’t shut up,” said Nori.

The door opened by a tattooed and bearded man who looked like he could have been a buddy of Dwalin’s. The first thing Bofur noticed was the heavy plant-smell and horrible humidity of the little cottage. An in-house grow-op; that was something Bofur was familiar with.  Running what he still assumed were weapons…that he was less familiar with and feared for his limbs.  He let Nori do all of the talking, setting down the bag when Nori elbowed him in the ribs. He wondered idly if the weed made these…fellows…any more peaceable.

One of them handed Nori a duffel, which Nori briefly opened.  He fixed the apparent leader with a cold look.

“This is hash,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“That wasn’t the deal. We don’t want your ditch-weed hash,” Nori said.

“Ditch-weed?”

Several firearms were drawn. Nori’s hand froze on his own, unable to draw.  Bofur just put his hands in the air, hoping that is next over-loud breath would not be his last.

“Look, lads.  We can see you’re proud of your…er…skills.”

Bofur was shocked to hear these words coming out of his own mouth.  Nori shot him a warning look as Bofur rambled on, all weapons trained on him.

“How about we just put down the guns and we will never say another rude thing about your hash, which clearly is of a supreme—”

“Shut the fuck up!”

A bullet sounded over Bofur’s head and he only ran because Nori grabbed him by the collar.  Bullets disrupted the dirt of the laneway around them as they ran.  Nori threw the duffel of hash at Bofur and they jumped in the Taurus and took off down the dirt road.

“Fuck!” yelled Nori, slamming his hand against the steering wheel.

Bofur was taken aback by Nori’s sudden outpouring of anger.

“Hey, we got out alive,” said Bofur.

“My guy doesn’t want fucking hash! He sells weed!”

“Maybe he can branch out…special on hash…”

“It’s not a fucking grocery store!”

“Nori, watch the road!” yelled Bofur as Nori corrected his steering to avoid ditching the vehicle.

“Fuck, mate!  What the hell is wrong with you? I told you not to talk and you nearly got us killed!”

“I panicked!”

“Fuck,” Nori cursed again.

“Like you could get anyone else to come and cover your ass,” Bofur said.

“Yeah well, maybe I shouldn’t have bothered,” said Nori.

Bofur fumbled with the duffel, throwing it into the back seat angrily.  He sat back in his seat, unable to wipe the scowl from his face.

“You’re an asshole,” he told Nori.

Nori did not respond.

 

oOo

 

By the time they had returned to Ered Luin it was early evening and they had both calmed considerably, though neither had spoken.  Finally, Bofur broke the silence.

“Where are we taking this?” he asked.

“Remember that house near the university?”

“One of the many hundreds of houses,” said Bofur sarcastically.

“The party house. Where I first ran into you,” he said.

“They haven’t been busted yet?” Bofur said with a smile, “good for them.”

“I don’t know if they’ll buy it or not.”

“So we might be stuck selling hash?” groaned Bofur.

Nori nodded grimly. Something in the side-mirror caught Bofur’s eye.  Nori had also noticed the flashing lights in his rear-view and began to accelerate.

“What are you doing? Maybe they just want to pass,” said Bofur.

“Duck down,” said Nori, as the siren’s blared behind them.

“This is so fucked! You are the biggest fucking jerk off—”

“Shut up and keep your head down,” said Nori.

He grappled for the duffel with one hand and dropped it into Bofur’s lap. He continued navigating through the streets as quickly as he could, turning out into traffic.  Bofur was hollering, mostly nonsense at the top of his lungs.

“You’re going to kill us!” Bofur yelled.

“Calm down.”

“Why’d you give me this? I don’t want this!” said Bofur, fumbling with the duffel.

“Bofur!  Shut the fuck up and listen to me!  I’m taking this alley.  You get out and roll and hide with the bag.”

“I’m not getting caught for you!” yelled Bofur.

“You won’t get caught, they’ll go after me.  I can’t go back…they can’t find this shit in my car.”

Bofur clenched his face in a pained expression, but leapt from the car as they took the alleyway. The open passenger-side door smashed against a dumpster, denting it, but slamming it shut. Nori swore under his breath, hoping Bofur had the sense to stay out of the way of the police car that trailed him.  He did not think that Bofur had been seen rolling from the car.

He attempted to put as much distance between himself and Bofur’s alley escape as he could manage, but he was caught within three blocks.  Nori was run off of the road into a guardrail.  He stumbled out of the car, dazed from the impact.

Three cop cars surrounded him and he held up his hands miserably, dropping to his knees.  He was pushed to the pavement, his arms roughly pulled behind his back.  His cheek pressed against the pavement, he watched as the cops pulled the unregistered handgun from under his seat as they searched the car.  He had two strikes: that was all they needed.


	3. Foul Weather Friends

**Foul Weather Friends**

 

Bofur lay panting in the alley behind several garbage bags, duffle beside him.  He had fallen badly when he had rolled from the vehicle, and his shoulder was painful.  Attempting to move his arm elicited an involuntary hiss.

“Fuck,” he whispered, slamming his good fist against the brown brick building.

He immediately retracted it, hoping that he had not caused enough noise that anyone might think to peek out at him. He spent several minutes wondering how he might go about getting out of this mess and noticed the sky beginning to darken.  Nori had not returned and Bofur could only assume that he had been arrested.

“What now…”

Bofur reached into his pocket, pulling out his blocky Nokia 6610.  He was surprised to find enough signal strength and dialled his brother.

“Bombur!”

“Bofur it’s dinner…”

“It’s always dinner with you. Look, I need some help and you can’t ask questions.”

“What?”

“That’s a question.”

Bombur sighed.

“Please Bombur.  Take Mum’s car and come find me in the alley behind the old theatre on Bishop Street.”

“Bofur…”

“Please do this for me.”

“I’ll be there soon,” grumbled Bombur.

Bofur rolled onto his good arm and pushed himself into a sitting position against the brick wall. He head spun and he touched a sticky spot near his hairline; it was already swollen and stinging. He could not recall hitting his head.  He sat as still as he could, formulating his plan as he awaited his brother.

 

oOo

 

Bombur parked his car on the street in the nearest empty space by the recently closed theatre. Anxiously he stepped out, making sure no one was watching him, and ducked into the alley.  He almost did not see Bofur, who was sitting behind a trash pile.

“Bofur, what the hell?” he exclaimed, approaching him.

“Hey, can I get a hand?”

Bofur took in his brother’s grubby clothes and the dried blood on his forehead.

“Looks like you need more than a hand…”

“Bombur.”

Bofur reached out his hand and Bombur pulled him from the pile of black bags.  Bofur grimaced as he stood, clutching his shoulder once he was on his feet.

“Take this,” he said, tossing a duffel bag to Bombur.

“What is it?”

“Just put it in the car. I need you to take me to a place over by the university.”

Bofur stumbled out of the alley, dropping into the passenger seat when Bombur opened the door for him. Bombur threw the duffel into the back of the car and sat down in the driver’s seat.  He glanced over at his brother, who was shivering slightly and holding his shoulder.

“I think you should go to a hospital,” said Bombur.

“I will.  I just need to finish something first. Head over to the university,” Bofur insisted.

“Bofur…”

“I need to end this. We don’t want to be stuck with that bag and I only know one place I can take it.”

“At least clean yourself up a little,” said Bombur, starting the car and heading toward the university.

Bofur flipped down the visor and opened the mirror to take in the damage on his forehead.  He touched the lump gingerly.

“Check in the glove compartment,” said Bombur.

“You mean condiment compartment,” sad Bofur, preventing the packets of ketchup and vinegar from spilling out as he unclipped the compartment.

“You never know…”

Bofur pulled out a napkin and an individually wrapped wet-nap.

“Food isn’t love, Bombur.”

“You promised you’d stop saying that,” said Bombur self-consciously.

Bofur wiped at the cut near his hairline with a sharp breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “it’s been a very weird day.”

“It’s okay, just point me in the direction of this house,” Bombur said.

Bombur parked on the street in front of the house that Bofur directed him to.  His brother pulled the duffel from the back of the car. He grimaced, adjusting the duffel in his good arm.

“Stay here,” Bofur said firmly, before going into the house.

Bombur sat, rubbing at a sticky spot on the steering wheel with his middle finger.  He must have spilled something…his thoughts were interrupted by Bofur returning to the car.

“Okay.  Now I’d rather like to go to the hospital,” he said.

“That was fast, what did you do?”

“Just go, and we’re never gonna talk about what happened here.”

 

**27 September 2002**

“No big fucking surprise. Idiot got himself convicted. Now who’s going to take care of this shit…” grumbled Dwalin, stomping into the office.

Bofur started as Dwalin dropped his protective gloves on the table beside his computer.  Dwalin had been in a mood since he found out about Nori’s arrest, though Bofur had never known him to be so bent out of shape about computers.

“You still on about this?” Glóin grumbled from the accounting desk.

“Well I don’t know jack shit about computers,” grumbled Dwalin.

“It’s alright.  I can maintain the website while he’s gone,” said Bofur, Dwalin ignored his offer.

“Can you get your brother to come in tomorrow?  We’ve got to get our shit together for this wares show,” said Dwalin.

“Yeah, I’m sure he can,” Bofur said.

Dwalin stormed back out into the forge, and Bofur could hear _Kashmir_ blaring on the forge radio.  Thorin returned from lunch with a box of doughnuts, which he set on the open space on the table beside Bofur.

“What’s eating you?” Thorin asked.

“I’m fine,” said Bofur.

Thorin shrugged and went out to the forge to help Dwalin with the orders.  Bofur leaned back, looking at the screen.  He had to upload photos for several new products and he was having trouble matching Nori’s formatting.

“About time Nori got locked up if you ask me,” said Glóin.

“No one did,” said Bofur, unusually tersely.

“You run with him laddie, you’ll end up in more trouble than you can imagine,” warned Glóin.

“Thanks for the tip,” said Bofur, grabbing his jacket and walking into the forge.

“Put some fucking safety glasses on, Bofur!” hollered Dwalin.

Bofur ignored him and approached Thorin, who turned off the grinder where he had been touching-up a dagger.

“Boss, can I leave early?” he asked.

“Why?” asked Thorin.

“There’s something I need to do,” he said.

“You can make up for lost time on Saturday?” asked Thorin.

“I can, yeah.”

“Alright. See you Saturday.”

“Thanks,” Bofur nodded.

He pulled on his windbreaker and stepped out to catch the bus, the cool air of the cloudy day cut right through the jacket.  He took the bus to the lock-up where Nori was being held.  He was processed through reception and was sent to the booth, staring through the glass, waiting for Nori.

When Nori arrived Bofur hastily picked up the phone.

“Bofur,” he said, looking relieved.

“I’m not here to shoot the shit. I took your cut and put it in a short-term deposit,” said Bofur.

“What? Why?”

“Because you won’t have any use for it for a while and I can’t stand it in my apartment.”

“I’m sorry.”

Bofur snorted.

“Bofur, I am.  Really.”

“You don’t know how to be sorry. We’re done here,” he said.

He hung up the phone and stood to leave.  Nori slammed his palm against the shatter-proof glass, a pleading look in his eyes.  Bofur suppressed a sigh and sat down, jerking the phone off of the hook.

“What?”

“No one else will speak to me. My older brother said he’s had enough and he won’t let my younger brother see me either,” said Nori.

“You made your bed…” said Bofur coldly.

“I know I’m a jackass. You should hate me,” said Nori.

“You are and I do,” agreed Bofur.

“You’re my only friend in the world.”

Bofur did not know how to respond to such a definitive declaration from his shady co-worker.  Nori thought they were friends?  He had recommended him to Thorin in the first place, but Bofur always assumed that Nori had been attempting to score points with the boss…either that or he wanted to solidify his position as the ‘I-know-a-guy person’.  Seeing the distress in his eyes, Bofur knew that he was not lying.

“I know, Nori,” he sighed.

“Look, I promised that I would hook you up in the marketing department at Mirkwood.  Turns out I know a guy…”


End file.
